


Smiling But We're Close To Tears

by crossroadswrite



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Alternative Universe - Time Agents, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Time Agent!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Amy Pond meets Time Agent Dean Winchester and some sexiness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smiling But We're Close To Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! This particular work is part of my 1k fic giveaway to celebrate my hitting 1000 followers on tumblr uwu.
> 
> The prompt that originated this fic was given to me by noone-consequence on tumblr. Enjoy!

Dean sits on the park bench, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground as he waits. He huffs and stands up, about to quit and go home. For a Time Lord, the Doctor sure as no control over time whatsoever. Seriously though, doesn’t the guy have a watch?

Sighing, he chucks the little slip of paper to the trash can and starts to walk away, pulling out his phone to call the Time Agency saying that the Doctor is a no-show and maybe they should revise their data.

“Time Agency, this is Meg, how can I help you?”

“Meg-“ he starts, only to be cut off by the distinct sound of the TARDIS setting down somewhere in the vicinity, that wheezing noise a balm, “never mind.”

He ends the call and turns to face the big blue box, parked inches from the bench he had been sitting on. Well, at least he’s getting better with the parking thing. If he'd had to

Dean slowly approaches it, standing in front of it with an eyebrow cocked and the I-mean-business stance.

The Doctor has a new face since the last time he saw him. He also has a pretty readhead following hot on his heels and holy shit, but that girl is _all legs_.

The Time Lord is speaking rapidly, looking like an overeager puppy with questionable fashion taste. Seriously though? A bowtie? It wasn't as if Dean was that

He clears his throat loudly to catch the Doctor’s attention.

“Hello! I’m the Doctor and who do you happen to be?”

“You don’t remember me?” he asks, a little bit disappointed, he should’ve expected this after all “Guess I’m a little ahead of you in terms of timeline, Doctor,” he smirks “Must say, I prefer this version anyways. Good face.”

“Thank you,” he says smugly, turning to the pretty thing accompanying him and smirking. “See, Amy, he likes the face.”

The girl snorts and snarks at him in a delicious scottish accent.

“Anyways, I’m Dean Winchester and you,” he points at the Doctor “are being charged with multiple offenses against the Time Agency’s laws and therefore have to be brought to the grand jury who will decide your fate,” he intones.

The Doctor agitatedly fixes his bowtie.

“Don’t worry. It’s all minor things. Surprisingly the Time Agency recognizes that you saved the universe and the whole of existence multiple times, the most they could do is give you a slap on the wrist and tell you not to do it again,” he smiles as he says it, admitting quietly to himself that it was probably more along the lines of the Doctor having _destroyed_ several worlds and quite a few species multiple times. Sometimes even the same ones.

The Doctor nods curtly and straightens his bowtie dramatically. “Well then, bring us to your leader.”

Dean snorts and shakes his head slightly. He steps forwards and slaps a Vortex Manipulator on the Doctor’s wrist, with the coordinates already set to the take him to the Time Agency’s headquarters.

“You go ahead, champ. I’ll keep the lovely lady company,” he winks at Amy, “when you’re done it’ll bring you right back here. No need to wave your magic stick around.”

The Doctor makes a little offended face, almost putting a hand over one of his hearts and gasping in outrage “It’s a sonic screw-“

Dean presses the button that teleports the Doctor to where he should be, cutting him off mid-word.

He turns to the Scottish girl and gives her his most charming smile, “Could I interest you in an ice cream, cone Amy?

The girl looks at him for a moment not really sure what to do with him. In the end, she smiles and nods, “Why not? It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve gone off with a strange man.”

Dean gives her his best winning smile (though really it was one of the best in the universe) and offers her his arm. Amy takes it and they walk together to the little ice cream shop not too far from where the TARDIS is parked. He gets them cones before they head towards an unoccupied bench.

They sit down and talk and it’s good, but there’s something about Amy that seems too familiar.

She seems sad for some reason – no, not sad. Grief stricken, an emotion that Dean knows far too well, something etched into his face right next to the laugh lines and freckles.

“Do you ever get sad, Amelia Pond?” he asks with a slight smile.

Amy shrugs carelessly, biting into her ice cream – that’s a sign of someone who you don’t want to mess up with right there; people who bite through ice cream are some of the most terrifying in all known timelines.

“Everyone gets sad. It’s a thing that happens,” she answers back.

Dean nods and presses his lips. She doesn’t understand what he means yet.

“Do you ever get sad even if you shouldn’t? Do you ever get sad when you have every reason to be happy? Or do you suddenly miss someone so much though you don’t know who you’re supposed to miss, but still there’s this hollow place inside of you that used to be filled with _someone_ but you can’t remember who? And every time you try it just kind of slips through your fingers?”

Amy stops and stares at him, instead of answering she asks back “Do you?”

Dean gives her a sad smile, but a smile all the same. “All the time.”

The redhead nods once, looking down at the ice cream starting to melt and run over her fingers. One of the top perils of having two suns is certainly runny ice creams.

“I do, too,” she bites her lip slightly and looks down at him, glaring slightly as if she does it enough he’ll spill all of his secrets. Big eyes like that, he’s not sure he wouldn’t (Time Agency's included). “Why? Why does it happen? Is it because of the time travelling?”

Dean tilts his head, glancing down at his vortex manipulator, “No,” he says, glancing down at his own ice cream coated hand. _Gross_. He switches hands so he can lick the skin clean. Amy stares a little, blushing when he stares back.

“Do you know about cracks, Amy?” he asks after slipping his thumb out with a wet sound.

Amelia immediately perks up “Cracks in the wall?”

“Wherever. Not just walls. I’ve seen them on cars, windows, floors. Time’s a greedy thing, Amy Pond, I’ll tell you that.”

“What’s that have to do with being sad?” she says, and honestly _no one_ should be allowed to be that cute.

“Time’s a greedy thing, he gobbles everyone up,” he... sort of clarifies. “I’m told that I used to have parents and a little brother, a best friend and a dog. I don’t remember them though, it’s just something people tell me. Sometimes I think I miss them and that’s why I get sad, but-” he perks up. “-there’s a lot of ways to will the sadness away.”

“Is there now?” and yup, that is most definitely a flirtatious tone.

“Oh, yeah,” he smirks up at her “like ice cream,” he gives his a lick for emphasis. “visiting strange places and going on adventures, driving, sex,” he gives a little shrug and licks into his ice cream again, gauging Amy’s reaction.

“Sex?” she presses her lips together, trying not to smile at the obvious invitation.

“Yup, sex.  Studies show that sex is _very_ good for your health.”

Amy puts a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh at Dean’s blatant proposition. Slowly, she gets up and gives Dean her best smile, the one that tells him that very soon he’ll be in over his head.

“Well, I supposed that if we’re both sad, we should give it a try…” she smirks at the way Dean’s eyes widen a little.

The green eyed man gets up and throws the remains of his ice cream in a trash can, offering Amy his hand and smirking.

“I know just the place we can go.”

With a swift move, he pulls her towards him and wraps an arm around her waist, taking pride in the surprised gasp the readhead lets out. He touches a couple of buttons on his Vortex Manipulator and then they’re in his bedroom, just like that.

“Handy,” Amy mutters, looking around curiously, “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” he says honestly, tugging on Amy’s fingers until she’s within kissing distance.

To his surprise Amy kisses him first, red lips pressing insistently against his, forcing his mouth open, so she can sweep his mouth with her tongue, make all these dirty little moves that have Dean moaning like a ten dollar whore and clutching at her hip like a virgin at prom.

Amy bites down on his lip and he grunts a little, one hand flying to the back of her neck, so he can angle her head just right, forcing her tongue back in her mouth and giving as good as he gets, ripping a moan out of her. Go him!

Slowly, not to trip and end up in a mess on the floor, Dean walks her backwards towards his bed all the while slipping his hand under her shirt and running his fingers over her sternum.

He hears the back of Amy’s legs hitting the bed and starts pulls back, full intend on lowering her down to the bed and kissing every inch of her body.

Amy throws him for a loop though, spinning them around and shoving Dean to the bead, the soft mattress making him bounce a little, before she’s straddling his waist, hips grounding down on Dean’s half hard dick.

Dean growls in the back of his throat and reaches for them hem of Amy’s shirt, tugging it up until she lifts her arms and lets him throw the garment somewhere to the floor next to the bed.

Amy’s breasts are perfectly framed by a blue lacy thing that has his mouth watering and God he can’t wait to get his mouth on that.

So he does, rising up and kissing along Amy’s neck, biting and nibbling without leaving any marks, at least not where anyone could see.

Amy let’s this breathy sigh out, all but tilting her head back and exposing her neck, letting him have better access to that perfect expanse of smooth skin.

“You taste like cherries,” he mumbles against her collar bone, dropping kisses down to her breasts as she laughs at his comment.

Dean grabs the back of her neck and flips them back around, laying Amy on her back and kissing her belly button, dipping his tongue and nibbling her flat stomach before she can complain about the change in positions.

He kisses his way back up until his nose touches the little bow in the middle of her bra.Dean stops for a moment, nudging her back so she arches and allows him to unhook her bra expertly, slipping it off her arms and throwing it somewhere to the floor, neither of them really cares where at the moment.

Dean kisses the space between her boobs before moving to her right breast, licking and teasing, sucking her nipple into his mouth and rolling it around his lips, giving it a few tugs with his teeth before soothing the nibble with his tongue. He does it until it’s hard and then moves on to the other one, revealing in the moans Amy lets out, in the way her spine arches towards his mouth and her hands clutch at the sheets.

When he’s satisfied with his handy work he moves down, trailing his lips down her stomach until he reaches the hem of her skirt. With quick fingers he pulls down the zipper on the side of it and pulls the little red scrap of fabric down her legs that seem to go for miles, throwing it somewhere to his side and slipping her shoes off right after.

He makes his way up her leg with kisses and nips, stopping to suck a hickey on her thigh, his teeth worrying the creamy skin between them, sucking before soothing the abuse with his tongue.

He reaches her cunt and he could almost groan because damn, her panties match the bra, of course they fucking do.

Dean runs his tongue over them, letting the fabric soak with his saliva, until Amy is pushing her hips down and towards his mouth, wanting more friction.

Dean’s all about pleasing, so he hooks his thumbs on the hem of her underwear and pulls them down, throwing them carelessly somewhere over his back.

He licks his lips, nudging Amy’s legs apart before he goes to town on her, licking her open, nipping and sucking mercilessly at her clit, before he tongue fucks her, fast and hard, going has deep as he can.

Amy whimpers and moans and trashes a little beneath him, one hand tightly clutching the sheet beneath her and the other twisting Dean’s hair, practically shoving him deeper and he complies enthusiastically.

He’s not saying that he has a bit of an oral fixation _but_ there’s nothing quite like going to town on someone, tasting them in his tongue and watching them fall apart beneath him.

He hums against her clit and Amy gasps, jerking his head back and forcefully pulling him up her body “Want me to return the favor?” she whispers, kissing him deeply and groaning when she tastes herself on his tongue.

Dean hums into her mouth and shakes his head “How about we get to the main event, gorgeous?”

Amy nods dumbly, gripping the back of Dean’s neck and clamping her knees around his waist, flipping him around and straddling him, a satisfied smirk on her pretty flushed face.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes again?”

Dean immediately throws his t-shirt over his head while Amy works on his jeans, pulling them down his legs and having to stop to chuck off his boots.

She does quick work of the rest of his clothing, leaving Dean butt naked and hard beneath her, his dick curving up towards his stomach.

“Condom?” she mutters. Dean nods dumbly, reaching over for one that he keeps on the first drawer of each of his bedside tables, in case he gets lucky. Amy rips it and efficiently rolls it down his length.

Amy returns to her place on his thighs jacking him a couple of times into full hardness, even if Dean was already there, before she lifts herself up and grabs the base of his dick, guiding him into her.

She sinks down slowly, inch by inch, until her ass touches Dean’s thighs again and at this point Dean’s pretty far gone, with the thigh, wet heat surrounding him, his head thrown back and hands landing on Amy’s hips.

“You good?” he breathes out, gauging Amy’s reaction.

The girl nods blindly before lifting herself up and slamming back down, causing twin gasps at the beautiful, marvelous sensation.

She bounces on his dick for a couple more minutes before Dean tries to help, lifting her up and slamming her back down which apparently he shouldn’t have done, because Amy growls and takes both of his hands, holding them above his head, gasping when the new angle hits her sweet spot.

Dean smirks and she clenches down around him in retaliation, making him gasp, cheeks flushed and mouth open.

She starts up an unforgiving rhythm single-mindedly working towards her orgasm, moaning and working faster and faster, creating delicious friction around Dean’s dick until he can feel his balls drawing up and his orgasm inches away from him.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ but he doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence because Amy’s body tenses up above him and she moans obscenely loud, her orgasm hitting her like a freight train as she clenches around him and that’s it, game over. Dean comes with a groan, hips jerking forward without his consent as Amy rides him through the aftershocks.

For a moment, when they both get down from their highs, they merely stare at each other. They stay like that for a little before Amy lifts off of him and lets herself drop to the spot next to Dean in bed.

Dean rolls the condom off of him and expertly throws it in the trashcan, bumping his fist in the air when he scores.

He’s still panting a little when he lets himself drop back down to the bed, “Well, that was fun,” he grins up at her and she grins right back.


End file.
